


Coming in on Time

by L_Moonshade



Series: Altered Realities [1]
Category: Doctor Who (2005), Highlander: The Series, X-Men - All Media Types
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-24
Updated: 2013-01-24
Packaged: 2017-11-26 16:46:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,062
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/652356
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/L_Moonshade/pseuds/L_Moonshade
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Methos has set himself up in Paris under Don Salzar's wing, ready for a quiet life hiding out among the Watchers. Too bad he's going to have a guest that could ruin all his plans. And he knows just which Time Lord to blame.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Coming in on Time

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to Raynbowz for the help. As always, the best parts are her suggestions, and all mistakes are mine.

**PROLOGUE**

The first hint Methos got that something was going to happen came at the end of his Watcher training. He was alone when he bumped into someone on the street, a man wearing a tweed jacket, bow tie, and sporting wild black hair. Methos paid little attention until the man said, "Royce?" and caught up to Methos to give him a close look. "It is you! No, wait, you're not using that name, yet. What were you calling yourself the first time we met? Re… no, that's not it. Leo… not that, either. Lucanus! That's what it was."

That worried Methos. He had used that name during one of his lives in Rome, and Ashton Royce was one of the personas he was preparing for the future. "You must have me mistaken for someone else."

"No, never forget a face. You called me Magnum Ares, and I introduced you to Tullia. You told me that she would help you find your way back from Death."

There was no doubting that; Methos had only told one person, which meant this man was either a close confidant, or the same person, somehow with a new face. "You don't look the same."

"My people have a way of cheating death."

Methos just nodded, certain he would get no further explanation. "You also called me Royce."

"I'm a time traveler. Things don't always happen to me in the right order; it's only been a few months since I've seen you."

"Well, I'm playing at being a mortal, so some discretion would be nice, Doctor," Methos said, continuing on his way.

"Oh, don't worry, I won't be staying long. Have business of my own, after all. But, now that you mention it, there is something you can do for me. You owe me," the Doctor said when Methos started to argue.

"I mentioned nothing of the sort, thanks. And how do I know that this version of you hasn't already collected from the future me?"

"Just tell that version of me that I already did."

Methos had given his word to repay the Doctor, and he was strangely reluctant to break a promise to this man. "Fine," he grumbled. "What do you want?"

"You'll be getting an unexpected visitor soon. Take care of her."

Methos blinked, surprised. "That's it?"

"Quite a bit for you at the moment, though. Isn't it?"

It was, Methos thought. He'd withdrawn as much as he could, only letting himself get pulled into the Watchers because it was time to cover his tracks, again. He didn't care about others, didn't want to care, but he was stuck, now. "Fine," he sighed. "Fine, I'll take care of her. Now we're square."

The Doctor grinned. "Knew I could count on you. Get back into the world. It doesn't do so well without you." He turned to go but, seeming to think of something else, kept turning until he was facing Methos again. "And maybe you'd better not mention me right off. Might be more information than she's ready for." With that, he was gone.

Methos met his Watcher friend for lunch and soon the encounter was forgotten. It wouldn't stay forgotten for long, though.

**XXXXXX**

**Methos**

The Doctor had told me I'd be getting an unexpected visitor, but that was putting it mildly. One minute I was translating texts for Don, the next there was a sound more felt than heard and a woman was laying on the floor at my feet. I'd reacted out of instinct and had jumped up, sword in hand. It took her a moment to focus; when she did her expression changed from confusion to recognition.

"Adam?" she said, voice sounding small and lost. I gave a curt nod and she swallowed, looking as if she were on the verge of tears. "Methos?" she said again, her voice barely more than a whisper.

I put the tip of my sword to her throat and she stilled. "How do you know that name?"

She suddenly started shivering. "Can I warm up first? I promise, I'm not a threat."

After a moment's consideration I set my sword aside long enough to wrap her in a blanket before going to the kitchen to make some tea and worry about my new guest. One the one hand, I couldn't imagine she would be too much of a threat if the Doctor wanted me to take care of her, after all, he hadn't steered me wrong and had done more than anyone to help me leave Death behind. On the other hand her knowledge, sprung on me like that with no warning, was troubling. "You could have warned me she knew, at least," I muttered, annoyed with the Doctor. Especially since, when it came down to it, I had little choice but to take her in, regardless of what she knew.

When the tea was done I laced it with a liberal dose of brandy then took it back down to her in the bedroom. She took the cup and a sip, then pulled something off her belt and handed it to me. It took a little experimentation to figure out that it was a cell phone, but it was far more advanced than anything I'd ever seen. It was controlled by a touch screen and it did more than call; aside from the picture on the main screen (my new guest, a man a few years older, and a girl who looked just like the woman), there was a photo gallery (with pictures of at least two people I knew, plus someone who wasn't quite me), music player, even videos.

"I suppose I should ask you your name, since you know mine."

"Katie."

I gave a contemplative hum. "What year is this from? Because it's far too advanced for today."

"2011. How far…?"

I looked up, feeling a wave of sympathy. "Twenty-five years."

A sick look passed over her face, but she quickly covered it up with a grimace and a sarcastic comment. "1986? Fuck me, that means I'm gonna have to relive the Eighties _and_ Nineties."

"How did it happen?"

"I was visiting my grandparents' grave when I saw a new statue, an angel with its face in its hands. I'd seen something like it on a TV show, where they were a race of aliens that could only move when no one was watching…" she gave a wry smile at the look on my face. "I know it sounds camp, but it was Doctor Who, what do you want?"

I frowned. "Doctor Who?"

Now she looked confused. "British science fiction show?"

"Never heard of it." I had a feeling I knew why, but there would be time for that later.

She considered for a moment then shrugged. "Anyway, on the show if the Weeping Angels touched you, they sent you back in time. Something about feeding off the power of the future that could have been, or something. I don't really remember the technobabble."

It would have been a lot harder to believe if I hadn't lived through five thousand years of strange happenings. It still wasn't easy to accept, though. "And you thought…"

“That I was crazy, the first time I looked back up and it seemed like it had moved, so I closed my eyes, just to prove to myself that I was paranoid.” She laughed harshly. “I wasn’t paranoid. When I looked again, the thing was just about on top of me. I backed away and probably would have made it, except for the one behind me. Before I opened my eyes again, I felt a cold touch, then my world exploded. And, when it fell back together, I was here.”

“That’s a great story, but it doesn’t explain how you know my name.”

“Another TV show. About Immortals.”

“Impossible.”

She countered with more sarcasm. “Yes, because it’s so much stranger than a five thousand-year-old man."

I couldn't help but laugh. "I guess you've got me there. Well, we're going to have to figure out what to do with you." I handed her phone back, opened to the photo of who I assumed to be her husband and daughter, saying nothing but giving her a sympathetic look. "In the meantime, sit here with your tea and cry, or shopping therapy?"

Again she considered. It would take her a while to be able to do things without thinking about it first, considering the ramifications. "What I remember from the show, Adam Pierson is a poor grad student."

I grinned. "Adam Pierson has come into a fairly sizable inheritance. How do you think he was able to enroll at the Sorbonne? Most of it's gone to education, but there's more than enough left to get you some necessities."

"If I can get some new ID, I should be able to find a job and get out of your hair."

I turned away with a shrug, trying not to let her see how little I wanted to do this. Maybe I didn't care—or want to care, it was already too late to stop that—but she didn't need that on top of everything. "Let's get you some clothes and necessities and go from there."

Two hours later, we were back at my apartment with half a dozen bags. It hadn't been easy to keep her from falling into a deep funk, but I'd done my best and found a woman who appreciated my dry humor and had a biting wit of her own. Once she was sitting down to cut tags off and put her things away, we started negotiating for supper.

"Pizza or Chinese?"

"Chinese. What?" she asked when I pouted.

"The pizza place has Buffalo wings."

She cocked an eyebrow. "Not in Paris, they don't."

I was glad that she was bantering; I figured it was a good sign that she wasn't just giving up. "Sure they do. It says so on the menu," I said, handing her said menu.

Katie looked at it and made a face. "Baked with ranch dressing? And you think those are Buffalo wings?" she said, tossing the menu aside. "I feel privileged. I get to teach a five thousand-year-old man something new."

"Think so, do you? Well, then, elucidate, o my teacher."

She rolled her eyes, but couldn't entirely hide a smile. "Primus, deep fried. Secundus, hot sauce. And tertius, bleu cheese."

"You sound like you know how to make them. Let me guess, you're from Buffalo."

She grinned. "Close enough, and I do."

I nodded. "Then it's Chinese tonight, and tomorrow I'm finding a fryer if I have to search all of Paris. I want to try these."

"Deal."

Half an hour later, we were sitting down to eat. “So, exactly how much do you know about me, anyway?” I asked.

“I think I know quite a bit and, so far, I haven’t learned anything that contradicts it.” She spoke hesitantly, and it didn't take a genius to see that she didn't want to talk about it, that it brought her situation into sharper focus than she was comfortable with.

"What do you want to talk about, then?"

She gave me a grateful look. "Tell me something. I don't care what, just… I want the real story."

"Hmm," I mused. "Do you know how I met Fury and his Howling Commandos?"

Her jaw dropped. "Wait, what? Fury? Nick Fury?"

"I guess you didn't know."

"No, I didn't know. Methos, he comes from another fiction entirely. Okay, so, are we talking about Sergeant Nick Fury, General Nick Fury, or Nick Motherfucking Fury, biggest bad ass on the planet?"

I looked at her with bemusement. "Well, in his mind, anyway. The guy on your phone."

"Nick Motherfucking Fury, then."

"Yeah, don't ever let him hear you call him that. And what's the difference?"

"Sergeant Fury is a white guy who's bad ass, but still human. General Fury is a dodgy sort and even more bad ass, but still just human. Nick Motherfucking Fury, however… Well, the jury's still out on alignment and when it comes to bad-assery, I have to wonder if he's really human." I could see realization dawn. "Hah," she laughed. "I knew there was something up with him. He's Immortal, isn't he?"

I grinned. "You're quick. Just a youngster—suffered his First Death in WWII—but the realization he couldn't die only served to make him even more reckless than he already was." Then I let my smile soften. "You don't have to pretend to be okay, you know."

"Yes, I do. If I don't, I won't be."

I gave a sad little smile. Then I grinned again, though even I knew it didn't quite meet my eyes. "Right, so I'm working with the French Resistance…"

**XXXXXX**

**Kate**

It was a nice day as we sat in the park, people watching as we ate ice cream. We'd spent the day getting my ID together and taken a break to get some sun.

"I think Don's looking for someone to help him out," Methos told me, trying for casual and mostly succeeding. "Do you know him?"

"If you mean the guy who recruited you, then yeah."

He nodded. "That's the one. I'm guessing that a bookstore is right up your alley."

"You kidding? That's throwing me into the briar patch."

He grinned. "Excellent, I'll take you to meet him tomorrow. So, tell me about this show of yours."

"It ran from '92 to '98, and I'm afraid that you were not the focus."

He gave me a sour look. "That's a blow to the ego, but it's not a surprise given how careful I am to keep a low profile. I guess this means I meet the show's protagonist?"

"Not for about ten years, but yes."

He waited, giving me a wry smile when I didn't volunteer anything else. "I was hoping for more, you know."

"And here we get into a thorny situation. I'm not sure how much I know. Now that I'm here, things will change."

He frowned slightly. "Not that much, I shouldn't think. No offense, but a stone in a river…"

I saw a figure out of the corner of my eye, slim, tweed suit, crazy black hair, frenetic energy, and felt a frisson of recognition. "That's where you're wrong. Sure, that's how we picture time, but it's really more like… Well, like that pond," I said, indicating the one in front of us. "All in one place and static. So if that pond is this reality, and all the time that has passed and will pass in it, then this…" I said, picking up a stone, "is me." I threw it into the pond and the ripples spread. "Even a little pebble can make a huge difference."

"The butterfly effect?" He thought about that for a moment. "There's a problem with that analogy, though. If it's really like that, then your arrival now would affect the past, as well."

"Yeah, it would."

"You're saying it can? That is has?"

I shrugged. "Nick Fury is real here and, whether or not you realize it, that is a gigantic change."

"Correlation isn't causation." He sighed. "We'll have to continue the philosophical discussion later, though. I have some texts to translate; I need to get back."

"I'm going to hang out for a little while longer, soak in the sun."

"You can find your way back?"

I nodded. "Yeah, I'm good."

"Okay." He put a hand on mine, gave it a squeeze, but didn't say anything more.

Once Methos was gone, the man I'd seen came over and sat down. "Nice description."

Even if I hadn't recognized him, I would have known who he was. A double heartbeat and a scent that was indescribable but one that I instinctively recognized as time, itself? There was only one person he could be. "Better than 'big ball of wibbly-wobbly, timey-wimey stuff,' that's for sure."

"Cheeky."

"Apparently we haven't met," I said, turning to offer my hand. "Hi, I'm Katie Brown. When I'm scared or depressed or lost—or all three—I use snark to cover it up. And when I'm not, I use snark just for the hell of it. And you're the Doctor. That's it, just the Doctor. Eleventh reincarnation."

He shook my hand, grinning. "Don't worry, I know. I've already met you."

I nodded. "Eleven…"

"Spoilers. And that's not my name."

"For six years I've been referring to your various regenerations by number, it's a hard habit to break." Not that he sounded anything more than amused. "And I wasn't going to ask for spoilers. You called it a nice description, but is it an accurate one?"

He picked up a stone and tossed it in. "Yes. Your arrival here has sent ripples of change through every level of time. Even things that seem unconnected can change. Why?"

"Just wondering. It's not every day I get the chance to ask an expert if my theories are right, after all."

"True. I think I can take a risk and tell you one thing. You should let Phil talk you into it."

I cocked an eyebrow. "Because that's what you think I should do, or because that's what the Katie you've already met did?"

Eleven grinned. "Oh, you are good. She told me but this… You know all the right questions to ask, don't you?"

This was an interesting twist. "'She' who?"

He turned and fixed me with an intense stare. "Spoilers," he said after a long moment.

I rolled my eyes. "Fine, have it your way."

"Always do," he said, standing. "Time to go. Things to do, people to see, times to change." He paused, giving me a sympathetic look. "Live your life. If you try too hard to change things, or to not change them, you'll only drive yourself mad."

"Leave it to the professionals?"

"I knew you were clever." With that he spun and was off. A moment after he disappeared, the sound of the TARDIS drifted back to me on the breeze. I stayed where I was, thinking over my conversation.

It wasn't until the sun started going down that I headed back and, even then, I took a long, winding route. I found a little newsstand and paused to look at the familiar magazines with titles in an unfamiliar language. Then I got to the comic books and stopped dead, breath catching. I couldn't understand the words on the cover, but I didn't need to in order to know what stories it told. There were a dozen people on the cover, dressed in blue and gold outfits that were half costume and half uniform.

And I knew every single one of them.

**XXXXXX**

**Methos**

I grinned as I glanced at the comic; one of the X-Men titles. "That's always been one of my favorites. Why?"

Katie looked nervous. "That's… That's where I went to school."

My smile faded into shock. "Where you went… You're a mutant?"

"Yeah."

"You're not one of the X-Men, though."

Katie shook her head. "I just wanted a normal life, just wanted to pass." There was a moment of quiet, then she said something I figured she'd never told anyone before. "I was a coward. We try not to kill, but sometimes it can't be helped."

"And you were afraid you couldn't do it?"

She couldn't look me in the eye and I knew, even before she told me. "I know from experience that I can; I have a very strong predatory instinct. I enjoyed it too much."

I reached out and put a hand on hers. "That's not an easy thing, to confront the darkness in yourself. If you need help, let me know. I have far too much experience."

She gave me a grateful smile, then leaned over to take a look at my papers. "Hieroglyphs? What's it say?"

It was a rare joy to be with someone who wanted to know what really happened so I told her, both what it really said, and what I was going to claim it said in order to throw the Watchers further off my trail. No outright lies, of course, but little mistranslations that would serve to muddy the waters. The next day, I took the translation and Kate to Don. Within the hour, she had a job. She was starting to settle into her new world.

Too bad it was just a sham.

It was just over a week after she'd arrived when she finally broke down and truly started moving on. I'd just come home from class and didn't see either her or a note which was odd; normally she left me one if she went out.

"Kate?" Since learning she'd trained with the X-Men—and hearing some of her stories—I just couldn't bring myself to call her Katie.

The only answer I got was a sob from downstairs. I went down to find her on the bed, curled up around one of my pillows, sobbing. I said nothing but got into bed and gathered her into my arms. I didn't bother with platitudes she wasn't ready for, just made soothing sounds until she cried herself to sleep.

She woke a couple of hours later, still in my arms. There was little to tell me she'd woken, just a slight change in breathing. When she didn't make any attempt to pull away, I reached up to stroke her hair.

"It's Andie's birthday," she said, voice mostly steady. "She's ten, just about to start middle school. If I'd just gone back in time, I'd be able to wait twenty-three years and tell her what happened." She let out a harsh bark of laughter. "Hell, I'm young enough that if Logan's any indication, no one would be able to tell how long it'd been. I could probably just walk back into my old life, and no one the wiser."

That sounded like she had a healing factor, and I filed the tidbit away for future reference. I debated letting her have the fantasy, but something in her voice made me think she didn't want that. "Not after twenty-three years."

She sighed. "I know. It's a nice thought, though." She said nothing more, but it was a heavy silence and I wondered what else was bothering her. I thought about pressing, but decided she'd had enough of that for today. It wasn't like there was anything we could do about it.

"Better?" I asked instead.

She hesitated. "No," she said after a moment. "No, but I think it will be."

I pressed my lips to the top of her head. "Sometimes, that's the best you can do."

I knew it wouldn't be, though, not entirely. Not until she got that last regret off her chest.

**XXXXXX**

**Katie**

I knew Methos had picked up on my slip about Logan and figured out that I had a healing factor, but he never commented on or asked about it. It wasn't like he was walking on egg shells around me, but he wasn't pushing me to talk about things I didn't want to, either. It was strange, having him act so altruistic, but after the first few weeks I stopped questioning it. I couldn't stop thinking about it, though. This was Methos before Duncan MacLeod pricked his conscience back into life, after all, and I couldn't help but wonder when the other shoe would drop.

I had been brooding over it when he came home from class one day and he picked up on it immediately, pausing before closing the door. "You're in a brown study," he said, voice carefully neutral as he hung up his jacket.

I thought briefly about deflecting, but he had a way of seeing right through me that made it difficult for me to lie to him. "I'm just wondering why."

He froze for a moment, but didn't pretend not to know what I was talking about, instead coming in to sit down. "I owed a debt, and this was what he wanted in return. For me to take care of you."

I felt a little hurt. "And that's the only reason?"

"At first, yes. But not now that I've gotten to know you, I'm grateful to him. I wouldn't have given you a chance if I hadn't been obligated to. I suppose I should have told you, but I was hoping you wouldn't ask."

I thought—hoped—he was telling the truth. "Honestly, it's probably better that you didn't."

Methos relaxed. "That's what he said. I'm glad he was right."

I didn't have to think long about who "he" was. "The Doctor?"

He didn't look terribly surprised. "I wondered if that was why your Doctor Who show doesn't exist here. It seemed a reasonable assumption."

I nodded. "It is."

"Anything else that doesn't exist?"

"Aside from the movies Nick was in? I haven't gone looking."

"Probably for the best."

Methos had been fidgeting with something that I now realized was a laser pointer when a red spot appeared on the wall. I'd worked long and hard with Professor Xavier to break myself of that particular compulsion, but I was emotionally compromised and couldn't resist. Besides, it'd been too long since I'd played and the chance—without inviting condemnation for it—was too good to pass up. "Ooh, red fairy," I squealed before 'shifting, reveling in my four-legged form after so long, and raced up the wall. Yeah, I knew I wasn't going to ever catch it, but it was fun to try.

Methos let out a bark of surprise, his finger coming off the switch, and the dot was gone. I turned to face him and crouched down expectantly, completely still except for the tip of my tail. A smile slowly made its way across his face, he turned the light back on, and the hunt was on once more. We played for a good half hour, Methos getting up and leading me into the kitchen so he could laugh at me as I slipped on the linoleum, until I was tired out and jumped up into his chair.

"Alright, you've had your fun," he said, grabbing a book to read. "Move it."

I gave him a smug look and curled up, putting my tail over my nose, daring him to move me. Of course he did, scooping me up and sitting down before setting me on his lap. I sneezed laughter and jumped down, 'shifting back into human form.

"It's been years since I've had the chance to play like that," I laughed, dropping onto the sofa.

He, of course, heard more than I said. "Your family didn't know."

I froze. "No," I said, unable to keep the note of shame out of my voice. "I was a coward when it came to that, as well."

Again he heard more than I said. "Why?"

"Richard was… Less than tolerant." He waited, knowing there was more. "He was a member of Friends of Humanity."

I could hear a quick intake of breath, smell the same anxiety on him that I felt when I thought about it, but I couldn't meet his eyes to see his expression. "What about your daughter?" he asked, voice quiet.

"She's only eleven. Nothing had manifested by the time I left."

"Kate, if…"

"Don't, please," I said, dangerously close to tears. "Why do you think I wanted so badly to just have gone back in time? To be able to see her again?"

Methos came over and sat down next to me, drawing me into his arms. "I'm sorry," he said, and held me once more while I cried.

**XXXXXX**

**Methos**

Kate started improving after her admission and, a couple of months after, she found her own apartment. I found myself missing her, but we settled into a nice routine. Most days we didn't see each other, but two nights a week we had a standing date. One night we usually spent over my translations exchanging stories, while the other we went for dinner, or a walk, or just sat together reading. Her emotional state got increasingly better, but she occasionally came to me feeling down. Whenever she did, I pulled out the "red fairy" and we'd play before she curled up to doze on the sofa. At first she was uneasy, but as time went on and I refused to condemn her for being a mutant, she finally relaxed enough to stay in cat form and curl up in my lap while I read.

And I slowly fell in love.

I kept a tight rein on my emotions, suspecting that her senses were heightened, at least in cat form. I also refused to push her into talking, which was probably a mistake. Not for her—she hadn't been here long before she started visiting the priest Darius, so she had someone to talk to—but for me. It was maddening, seeing progress but not knowing how much. She was as good at hiding her emotions as I was (a skill learned while living in a house full of telepaths) and gave nothing away.

We went on like this for two years before I realized just how far she'd come. And the way I found out ignited a spark of jealousy stronger than I'd felt in a long time.

It was just after Joe Dawson had arrived. He was a friend of Don's as well as Duncan MacLeod's Watcher and had followed the Highlander to Paris. I'd met Joe once or twice and found him to be a good kid, immediately taking an inexperienced Adam Pierson under his wing. I'd known he would be in Paris—I kept a close watch on who was in town—and expected Kate to meet him.

I hadn't expected them to strike up an instant friendship, however. The fact that they had was something I learned as I stopped into the bookstore before class one day to bring Don the next stack of translations.

 "Where are you going?" Don was asking Kate.

"There's a Blues club he wants to check out," Kate said. "Hey, Adam."

I gave her a smile. "Kate. Don. What're we talking about?"

"Kate has a date with Joe tonight," Don said, taking the translations from me.

Kate ducked her head, uncharacteristically shy. "It's not a date," she said, though she didn't look like the idea bothered her. "I mentioned I'm a fan of the Blues and Joe invited me along, that's all."

"Did you know he plays?" Don asked.

"Yeah, he told me. I can't wait to hear him; he's got a great voice for it."

It bothered me that she knew that when I didn't. Of course I didn't; Joe and I weren't close friends, nor had I watched him as a character in a TV show for six years, but jealousy wasn't rational. "That he does. Well, have fun." I bent down to give her a peck on the cheek then headed off to class.

After I was done for the day, I stopped by to see Darius. It was a risk, knowing MacLeod was in town, but I needed to talk to someone. When I sensed only one other Immortal I went in, glad to find Darius alone.

"Adam," he greeted warmly. "I wasn't expecting to see you today." He took only a glance and turned to his spare quarters. "I'll make some tea, and you can tell me what's troubling you."

"It's Kate," I said once we'd sat down with tea and a game of chess.

"Has something happened? Is she alright?" he asked, concern evident in his tone. I didn't know how much she'd told him, but Darius did know she was alone and had lost her family. Like the good shepherd he was, he'd taken it upon himself to help her through and, in the process, had become fond of her.

"No, she's fine. Better than I realized. She apparently has a date tonight."

Darius sat back, covering a smile with his hand as he pretended to examine the board. "Ah. She told you this?"

"She says it's not. Her protest wasn't entirely convincing, though."

Darius moved a pawn. "Have you told her how you feel?"

"No," I admitted. "I've been a bit of a coward."

"Why?"

I made a counter move to give myself time to put it into words. "I don't want to push. She doesn't talk to me much about how she's doing, so I'm not entirely sure. I don't want to hurt her by moving too fast."

"Now that you know she is doing better, will you say something?"

I had to think about that. "I don't know. Maybe I should see how things go with Joe first. From what I can tell he's her type. Older, grizzled…"

Darius chuckled. "They don't come much more old or grizzled than you, my friend."

I gave him a wry smile. "I suppose not."

"You could say nothing, of course. But what if she, too, is afraid to speak her heart?"

That took me aback. "Why would she be?"

He paused to make a move and choose his words. "I think that, if you were to ask, you would find that she holds you in high esteem and herself much less so. Perhaps she thinks herself unworthy of your love. The same way you think yourself unworthy of hers."

We played for a long while in silence, me thinking about it and Darius letting me. "You really think I should say something?" I finally asked.

"You have many regrets, Adam. Which are the worse? Regrets of what you did, or regrets of what you did not?"

I thought for a moment then sighed. "Point well made, old friend. I'll be seeing her tomorrow night; I'll talk to her then." Then, even though I knew it was futile, "I don't suppose…"

"No," he said firmly. "I will keep her confidence the same way I will keep yours."

I smiled, not upset in the least. "You're a true friend, Darius. Now, tell me what the Highlander's been up to."

**XXXXXX**

**Katie**

For almost two years, I tried to find the courage to tell Methos how I felt. I'd always been a fan of the character, but I honestly hadn't expected to fall in love. What I'd expected was to have a problem seeing him as a man instead of a character, but I didn't. It didn't take me long to realize that the character I'd seen wasn't much like the real Methos. Not that I was certain the Methos I did know was the real one, but I had a feeling it was. Or maybe it was just my hopes.

The problem was, the Methos I'd gotten to know was amazing. He was everything Richard had pretended to be, only so much _more_ , that it was nearly overwhelming. That, combined with the fact that I had low self esteem after being married for eleven years to someone who hated me (even if he didn't know it), made for one hell of a coward when it came to telling Methos how I felt.

It got a little easier after he found out about my non-date with Joe. Methos was preternaturally good at hiding his emotions, even from my sense of smell, but there had been a flare of jealousy before he could quash it. And that, friends and neighbors, made me feel a whole lot more confident.

I needed to talk, though, so I went to see Darius the next day after work. The priest had never had a huge role on the show so I hadn't known what to expect aside from compassion, but I found a man who took an almost child-like delight in the world and loved to laugh. He had a quick mind and like all of the Immortals I'd met (all two of them), an interesting view of the world.

His church was small and quiet but I often found Darius with someone in the Confessional, or just talking. The day I began thinking I may just have a chance with Methos after all, I found Darius with a familiar face. I'd known Duncan was in Paris—he was the reason Joe was here, after all—and I knew he and Darius were old friends. Somehow, though, it was still a surprise to walk into Darius' church to see him giving the Highlander a warm greeting.

I started making my apologies, though I knew Darius wouldn't let me leave. "I'm sorry, you're busy. I can come back."

"No, no, not at all," Darius said. "Duncan, I'd like you to meet a friend, Katie Brown. Katie, Duncan MacLeod."

"It's nice to meet you, Kate." He took a moment then gave a little smile, seeing that I wanted to talk. "Darius is a good man to talk to. Should I go?"

"No," Darius said before I could answer. "I think you have more experience in matters of the heart than I. Or am I wrong in thinking that you're here because of Adam?"

I gave a wry smile. I wouldn't lie to Methos but I practically _couldn't_ lie to Darius. Not that I ever really wanted to. "No, you're not wrong."

Darius made tea which Duncan looked at with trepidation before he found it to be perfectly normal. "What's the problem, then?" Duncan asked. "Unrequited love?"

"Yes… No… I don't know. We met a couple of years ago, just after I lost my husband and daughter, so I wasn't in a good place. Adam was amazing, I'm not sure how well I would've done without him." Duncan raised an eyebrow at that, but I interrupted before he could say anything. "Don't look at me like that, MacLeod; it's been two years. Plenty enough time for me to get past the soul crushing sorrow and know that I'm really in love."

He smiled. "I'll take you at your word, then. And you haven't told him how you feel because…?"

"Because Katie doesn't think highly enough of herself," Darius said, a note of reproach in his voice.

"It's just… What if he doesn't feel the same?"

Duncan gave me a knowing smile. "What if he does?"

I felt a moment of déjà vu; that was almost exactly what Duncan had said to Methos when the older man had fallen in love with Alexa on the show. I felt a pang, realizing that if Methos and I got together, her life would be a lot different from that fiction, from the way it should have been. Maybe this wasn't such a good idea.

"You said you didn't know if it's unrequited," Duncan went on. "Did something happen?"

But the Doctor had told me to live my life, and who could I trust when it came to all things timey-wimey if it wasn't him? "I went out with a friend last night. A mutual friend called it a date and, well, Adam didn't seem to take it very well."

"Sounds promising."

"More than you know," Darius said. "Adam is very adept at hiding his feelings."

Unless it was useful for manipulating people, but I didn't say that out loud. "That he is."

"Is he worth the risk?"

I didn't have to think about Duncan's question for long. Or at all, really. "Yes."

"Well, there you are."

I took a deep breath and let it out. "Yeah. Well, I suppose I should go, then, or I'll be late."

Duncan's smile widened. "Do you have an important date or something?"

I could feel my face warming. "Shut up. Adam and I get together a couple times a week." I wasn't normally so familiar with people I'd just met, but after watching six seasons of a series centered around him, it was hard not to feel like I knew Duncan.

"How long has this been going on?"

"Since I got my own place a few months after it happened. Why?"

Duncan's eyebrows shot up. "He's made a point of seeing you a couple times a week for two years, and you think he's not interested?"

I stood to go, heaving a sigh. "You are going to be a pain in my ass, aren't you?"

Duncan just laughed. I took a moment to light a candle for Alexa and pray that she found someone to love her before I left. As I did, I heard Duncan say, "Let me know how it goes."

Darius chuckled. "Of course."

It was a cold and somewhat rainy night, but the busses weren't running this late and I didn't feel like waiting for a cab, so I walked the few blocks to Methos' apartment. When I got there he answered the door as soon as I knocked, almost as if he'd been waiting for me, and the look on his face… Either he'd done a damn good job of hiding it or I'd been completely blind, because if I'd seen it before, I wouldn’t have doubted how he felt.

I gave him a smile as I stepped inside. "I, uh, I think we need to talk."

He searched my face for a moment before his lit up. "In a moment," he said, then leaned in to kiss me. It was gentle and soft and full of promise. And suddenly I wasn't quite so cold.

"Do you have translations for Don?" I asked when we finally broke for air.

He drew me into his arms, resting his cheek against the top of my head. "They can wait. I have some Irish cream and hot chocolate, and there's a robe in the dryer for you, because I know you wouldn't have taken a cab."

I chuckled. How well he knew me. "God, I love you."

His heart stuttered. "Yeah?"

I drew back to meet his gaze. "Yeah."

He leaned in for another kiss, this one with a little more heat, then pulled back. "Go get dried off and changed. I'll get your cocoa made."

When I made it back upstairs, Methos was in the kitchen, just finishing the cocoa. He was singing something under his breath in a language I didn't recognize. When he was done he brought me the cocoa, sitting on the couch next to me. I leaned into him with a contented sigh as he curled an arm around my shoulders.

"Okay?" he asked.

"Yeah. Just… I'm finally home."


End file.
